


Can't Buy Me Love

by niniblack



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Canon Disabled Character, Cinderella - Freeform, Kid Fic, M/M, Maid in Manhattan - Freeform, Mistaken Identity, Mutual Pining, Politics, Single Parents, dadneto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-18 03:41:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4690757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niniblack/pseuds/niniblack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik's a single dad struggling to make it work and nab the promotion he's been waiting for. The last thing he needs is to get involved with politician and notorious playboy Charles Xavier.</p><p>(The Maid in Manhattan pastiche that no one asked for.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because silly rom-coms should always be Cheriked! And one day I'll stop writing kid fic. That day won't be today.
> 
> The working title for this was "Mo Money Mo Problems".

**_Erik_ **

Monday mornings were created to punish him, Erik decides. He's not sure what he did to deserve it, maybe he killed someone in a past life. He must have been some sort of super villain to bring on this level of suffering.

"Lorna if you don't get your shoes on and get out the door right now we're going to be late," Erik yells, pouring coffee into his travel mug and cursing when it spills over. 

"Erik," his mother chides, not even glancing up from her newspaper.

"Sorry Ma."

He's sopping up the mess with a handful of napkins when Lorna finally appears in the doorway, dragging her feet dramatically. "I don't wanna go," she says.

"I don't want to go to work either but I enjoy eating and having a roof over my head, so suck it up," Erik says. He almost sighs when that only makes her pout harder, and says, "You've got your show this afternoon. You've been practicing for weeks; you don't want to miss it."

"Is Mom coming?" Lorna asks.

"Of course," Erik says. Edie lowers her paper enough to shoot him a look, and Erik adds, "I'll call her after I drop you off."

"She promised," Lorna says.

"Yep," Erik says. “She’s going to be there, and then you get to go stay with her for the weekend.” He smiles, or tries to, because Susanna has a history of bailing at the last minute. Pretending like she doesn’t is something Erik only does for his daughter’s sake. 

He points to Lorna's shoes, sitting by the doorway. "Shoes, now."

Lorna plops down onto the floor with a dramatic sigh and starts putting her shoes on, finally. "Are you coming, Oma?" she asks.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Edie says, smiling at her. To Erik she says, "I'll meet you at the hotel."

He nods, handing Lorna her backpack and herding her out the door. "Bye Ma."

Edie waves at them as Erik pulls the door shut. He glances at his watch and starts pulling Lorna behind him at a brisk pace. He's going to be so late.

\---

Erik runs into work with only a minute to spare, hurrying to punch his time card before he relaxes. Janos, sitting at the security monitors, raises an eyebrow at him.

Erik chugs down the last of his coffee before asking, "Anything interesting today?"

Janos spins his chair around and points to one of the monitors, where a man is standing naked in the hall and pounding on the door. "The missus locked him out."

Erik’s probably going to have to go unlock the door and let the poor bastard in. Hopefully someone else will get him a robe first.

He leaves Janos with a wave and heads to his locker, digging out his cell phone as he goes. He still needs to call Susanna and make sure she hasn’t forgotten about Lorna’s play.

Susanna has, of course, forgotten. Or, more likely, she’s decided not to go and is lying. “I really don’t see what the big deal is, Erik,” she says. "It's a class play. She'll have more of them."

_And you'll miss them too_. Erik refuses to sigh into the phone. Instead he says, “She’s got a whole speech for it that she’s been practicing.”

“She’s ten, how big of a speech can it be? It’s not like she’s running for president.”

Erik wants to throw the phone against the wall, but that would only cost him more money he doesn’t have to replace it. “You told Lorna you would be there. She’s been asking about it.”

“She’ll get over it,” Susanna says.

“Sure. Just like every time she’s gotten over you not giving a shit about her.”

Susanna sighs heavily into the phone. “I give a shit, I just don’t--”

“You just don’t want a mutant for a daughter,” Erik finishes for her. They’ve been over this a million times before. Lorna hasn’t even manifested any powers yet, but her green hair--fairly mild on the scale of physical mutations--is enough to mark her as different. As mutant. “You know what, fine. But stop telling Lorna you’re going to show up for things and then fucking off. _I’m_ the one who has to deal with the fallout and it’s getting pretty hard not to just tell her ‘sorry honey, your mom’s a bitch.’”

“Fuck you, Erik.”

“Fuck you too.” Erik jams his finger against the end call button as hard as he can. It’s not as satisfying as slamming a phone receiver down.

Emma, who’s sitting next to him, raises an eyebrow. “Lover’s spat?”

“Fuck you too, Emma.”

Emma raises her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, forget I said anything.” She drops her hands and leans forward conspiratorially. “Did you hear that Smith is leaving?”

Erik frowned, actually paying attention to her now. “No, when did that happen?” Smith is the facilities manager, and Erik’s direct boss. He’s decent, and friendly enough towards mutants, and Erik would rather the devil he knows that the one he doesn’t.

“They’re announcing it today. And they’re promoting from within, which mean you’ve got a shot at it.” Emma smiles, nudging him with her shoulder.

“Maybe,” Erik says. A promotion would be nice, but he’s not holding his breath. “How do you know all this?”

Emma gives him a look that says she thinks he’s being stupid and taps her forehead. “You’re not supposed to do that,” Erik chides with a smirk. The laws surrounding using mutations against the baselines are stupid in general, but the ones against telepathy especially so.

Emma shrugs. “They’ll never even notice. It’s not like I made them run around naked in Central Park.”

Later she snags one of the applications, folds it up, and stuff it into his back pocket, ignoring Erik’s glare for touching his ass.

\---

Erik is used to being fairly invisible at his job. That’s actually what one of the posters down in the breakroom says, _Strive to be invisible_ , and most people tend to overlook the help anyway.

The ones who don’t overlook the help are always like the guest Erik’s currently being forced to act polite with, who thinks he’s there to be their personal slave. Erik had been sent up to take a look at a broken air conditioner in the Park Suite, but it turns out that the guest, Sebastian Shaw, just didn’t know how to work the dials.

Erik turns it down to 65 degrees and says, “There you go, Mr. Shaw. All fixed.”

“Oh, thank you. How long does that take to work? It’s positively sweltering in here.”

The air conditioner had been set at 66 degrees and functioning perfectly before Erik changed it, so he has to force himself not to roll his eyes. “You should feel a difference very shortly, sir.”

Shaw waves a hand towards his own face to try and generate a breeze.

“If that's all…” Erik starts backing away, intending to duck back out in the hallway and get back to real work, but Shaw stops him with a raised hand.

“Actually, would you mind holding up those two suits they sent over? I have to pick one for the luncheon tomorrow.”

Erik grits his teeth and wants to say he’s just maintenance, sorry, get one of the maids to do it, but he goes to the closet and pulls out the two suits in question, holding the jackets up for Shaw to look at.

Shaw frowns, stepping forward and smoothing down the lapel of one jacket. “Oh, I really can’t tell without the tie. Did they send any?”

Erik looks and no, there are no ties.

“Would you mind--I know this isn’t your job but I’d be very appreciative if you could run down to the shop and grab me a couple options.”

“Ties?” Erik asks.

Shaw nods.

“Um, the concierge usually does--”

“Oh, but it will get lost in translation,” Shaw says, smiling at him insipidly. “You look like a man who knows the difference between silk and polyester.”

Erik has no idea what about him makes Shaw think he’d know that. He’d like to change whatever it is so that no one ever thinks that again. He smiles tightly and says, “Alright," thinking of the big tip this is likely to get him.

\---

**_Charles_ **

Charles would really like to pretend he can’t hear anything Raven is saying, but part of the problem with having a sibling is that they can always tell when you’re faking. Well, Raven can always tell when Charles is faking. Charles is sometimes hard-pressed to tell if it’s even Raven he’s talking to unless he uses his telepathy.

“This article isn’t too bad,” she insists, trailing after him as the bellboy leads them towards their suite for the week.

“Senator Charles Xavier, blah blah blah, son of the late Brian Xavier, CEO of Xavier Pharmaceuticals, blah blah blah--”

“What does my father have to do with anything?” Charles asks. He pulls back on Banshee’s leash, trying to get the corgi to stop running ahead after the bellboy.

“--Is expected to push for more educational reforms in the coming term, blah blah blah, end of quote. It’s not bad,” Raven insists. “It’s very respectful.”

Charles hands Banshee’s leash off to Hank and reaches for the paper, barely glancing at the room they’ve been led to. “Give me that.”

Raven holds it up out of reach until Charles' glare turns particularly nasty. He snatches it from her hands and flips it open. “ _Seminole favorite and playboy politico Senator Charles Xavier_ ,” he reads. Charles looks up at Raven and says, “You missed a few words.”

“You can’t fault them for calling you a playboy,” Raven says. “I lived with you at Oxford.”

Charles keeps reading, “ _Who called off his engagement last month to uber babe Gabrielle Haller arrives in town solo_.” He shoots his sister a withering look. “Respectful, right.”

“What do you expect?” Raven asks.

“We weren’t engaged,” Charles says.

“That doesn’t matter to the press,” Hank points out.

Charles groans, and is distracted by the butler introducing himself and the general hubbub of getting their belongings sorted into the right rooms. Banshee is nearly vibrating in excitement, and Charles grabs one of the dog toys that have been left in the room to throw to him. He’ll have to thank the staff for that later.

“By the way, you’re going to Summers’ fundraiser on Monday,” Raven says, sinking down onto one of the sofas and taking her heels off.

Charles is wrestling with the dog. “No I’m not.”

“Yes you are,” she says.

“No, I’m not.” Charles looks up at her. “I told you, I hate Summers. I don’t care how much money he has.”

Raven sighs dramatically. “You’ll care if his campaign donations suddenly dry up,” she says. “He’s funded our entire television campaign upstate single-handedly.”

Charles groans and flops over the arm of his chair dramatically. “I’m too sick to go,” he says. “Hank, tell her I’m sick.”

“You’re not sick,” Raven says.

“I will be if you make me spend time with Scott Summers.” Charles gags dramatically.

“Suck it up.”

“He’s too handsy,” Charles complains.

“Take one for the team.”

“Ugh,” Charles groans. He’s going to wind up going, he already knows it. And it will be torture. He pushes himself uprights and starts looking around for the bathroom. 

“Where are you going?” Raven demands.

“To piss,” Charles yells back. “Or should I wait until you find a way to make a donation off of it?”

“Gross!”

Charles finds the bathroom and barely glances at the room before swinging the door shut and heading for the toilet. Behind him, there’s a cough and then a man saying, “Sorry, sir.”

Charles twists around and almost shrieks when he realizes there’s someone else in the room. The other man beats a hasty retreat and Charles realizes he must have been maintenance.

Charles had been _joking_ about his sister making people pay to watch.

\---

**_Erik_ **

Despite a day filled with things breaking left and right, running errands that were _not_ a part of his job description, and the encounter while fixing a shower head when he’d seen a senator’s dick--memorable only because it didn’t happen everyday--Erik manages to clock out on time, pick up his mother, and get both of them to Lorna’s school just in time to sneak in the back. Perfect timing too, because Lorna’s up next. Erik’s heard her speech about the beginnings of the mutant rights movement in the Seventies enough times that he can recite it himself, but he’s still proud of her for picking a topic that actually matters and getting up in front of the mostly human students in her class to give it.

That she’s been obsessed with the entire decade ever since getting this assignment has really been more amusing than anything. Erik’s been forced to listen a lot of oldies music and hear Lorna prattling on about hippies and civil rights leaders.

Except Lorna chokes once she’s standing in front of everyone, and it’s physically painful to watch. Erik feels like it’s own heart being stomped on when she finally stops stuttering through the first paragraph and runs off stage.

Edie pats his leg, but Erik’s already on his feet, heading backstage to find his daughter.

Lorna is sitting on the floor, stuffing her notes into her backpack as angrily as possible.

“Hey,” Erik says, crouching down behind her.

“I messed it up,” she says. He can tell she’s about to cry and he wants to tell her she did great, but lying will only make her more upset.

“Everyone messes up sometimes, schatzi” Erik tells her, reaching out to rub one hand over her back. “You’ll do better next time.”

“I don’t wanna do it again.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes I do,” Lorna says, twisting away from him.

Erik sighs. “Okay, we don’t have to talk about it right now,” Erik says. He pulls out the ‘great job’ gift he’d gotten for her from his pocket. It can be a consolation gift just as easily. “Here, look what I’ve got for you.” He holds out the small box. Lorna glances over, but doesn’t take it from him. “It’s those earrings you wanted…” He tries to tempt her. They’re large dangling plastic peace signs and Lorna’s been asking for them ever since she found a picture of a girl on the internet wearing them.

Lorna twists back towards him and moves to give him a hug. Erik squeezes back tightly. When she pulls away she’s still a bit teary-eyed, but she wipes at her face with the back of her hand.

“Is Mom here?” Lorna asks.

Erik winces internally, but forces it not to show on his face. “She had to work this weekend,” he says. It’s a blatant lie and Lorna sees through it, but they both pretend it’s the truth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to [annejumps](http://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps) for looking this over for me.

**_Erik_ **

Susanna bailing on her weekend with Lorna means that Erik doesn’t have anyone to watch her. His mom has plans to go visit a friend and Erik has already been given hours at the hotel. He tries asking Emma to babysit, but she’s working too.

“You get to come hang out at the hotel,” Erik tells Lorna, trying to make it sound fun and exciting. It’s not the first time this has happened, and Lorna just sighs. She’s been quiet and dejected ever since her disaster of a speech.

Erik drops her off with the seamstress, Angel, and heads out to the first maintenance emergency of the day.

\---

**_Charles_ **

“So you’ve got the rest of the morning off and then the luncheon downstairs at one o’clock followed by an interview with the Times about the education bill and then dinner with one of the Summers’ brothers--Alex, not Scott--to discuss how much you’re pro sustainable energy and what do you think you’re doing?”

Charles looks over to see that Raven has her hands on her hips and is tapping one of her feet against the floor. Her hair is bright pink today, contrasting with her blue skin. She’s got on a pink dress and shoes too, and altogether it’s quite a look.

“Walking the dog,” Charles says.

“No you’re not,” Raven tells him. “You have to prepare some remarks for the luncheon.”

“I’m not going to the luncheon.” Charles leans down to clip Banshee’s leash into place.

Raven levels him with her best glare. “You have to go. It’ll be fun. Lots of little old ladies; they always think you’re adorable. Just smile and shake hands and make sure your hair looks extra fluffy. They’ll be eating out of your palm.”

“Fluffy?”

“It makes you look younger,” Raven explains. “That polls well.”

“How about if I shave it all off?”

Raven looks horrified. “The sister in me wants to do it for you while you’re asleep, but the campaign manager in me says don’t you dare. Your approval rating won’t survive it." She pauses, then gets right back on track. "So about this luncheon..."

Charles wheels himself out into the hallway, Banshee and Raven both following along.

Raven's still ranting at him as they got on the elevator, but Charles is watching Banshee who immediately zones in on the little girl standing in the corner. She leans down to pet him and Charles says, "Sorry, he's friendly."

"What's his name?" the girl asks. She's rubbing his ears and Banshee is thumping his tail against the floor in bliss.

"Banshee."

"Hi Banshee!"

She’s probably a mutant, Charles guesses, based on her bright green hair. “What’s your name?” he asks.

“Lorna,” she says. She grins up at him. “I know who you are.”

“Oh?” Charles asks, eyebrow raised.

Lorna nods. “You’re Charles Xavier and you’re the only mutant in the Senate and I know all about your voting record and your stance on mutant integrationist policies.”

She doesn’t even stumble on the word integrationist, making Charles grin.

“Are you a Republican?” she asks.

“Why?” Raven asks suspiciously before Charles can answer. Technically Charles is an Independent but he caucuses with either party depending on the topic. Usually he winds up with the Democrats, especially lately with the conservatives trying to push the mutant registration act through again.

“Richard Nixon was a Republican,” Lorna says.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Raven asks.

“Well, he lied a lot.”

Raven steps forward, almost nudging Charles behind her. “Who told you to ask these questions? Was it Fox? Which organization are you with?”

Lorna looks at her like she’s crazy. “I’m ten,” she says.

“Are your parents Republican or Democrat?”

“What’s the difference these days?” Lorna asks with a smirk.

Charles bursts out laughing. “I like this kid.”

They arrive at the first floor just then, and Banshee shoots out the door, dragging Charles after him. Lorna starts to follow and asks, “Where are you going?”

“Huh? Oh, to walk the dog.”

“Can I come?” she asks. “If my dad says yes.”

Charles is startled, but agrees. He hands Banshee off to Raven, who has started ranting about the luncheon again, and heads back into the elevator with Lorna. “Where’s your dad?”

“In the Park Suite,” Lorna says, hitting the button to take them back up the floor they just left.

\---

**_Erik_ **

Erik gets a call to head towards the Park Suite for a broken air conditioner that needs to be fixed ASAP. He almost ignores it after the last time when Shaw cried wolf, but it would be just Erik’s luck that it’s actually broken this time and he can’t be seen slacking when he wants that promotion. When he arrives, the room is pleasantly cool and Emma is sitting at the vanity, sorting through the contents.

"What are you doing?" Erik asks.

She spins around with a grin. "Come see," she says. “This Shaw guy is loaded. Look at these cufflinks. Those are _real_.” She holds one of them up to the light, twisting it this way and that and making the diamond sparkle.

“It’s almost as pretty as you,” Erik says, rolling his eyes. "You said the a/c was broken.” Emma shrugs. "I do have actual work to do, you know," Erik tells her.

Emma waves a hand. "Pssh. Those overflowing toilets will wait."

"That’s not what I--"

Emma interrupts him by standing up and going to the closet. She shoves a suit jacket in his face. Erik looks, and it's the one Shaw had decided not to wear and asked Erik to send back. "Here, I want to see how you clean up."

Erik glares at her. "No."

"No one will know! I just want a nice picture." She pouts at him. “I need to something to make my mother think I’m dating a nice man. Someone with money. I won’t tell her you’re really a mechanic and trust me, she’ll never want to meet you.”

Erik keeps glaring.

Emma waves the suit under his nose. "Come on, you've got about the same build as Shaw. When was the last time you wore a suit?"

"My father’s funeral."

"Then let's try a much happier occasion."

Erik sighs and takes the jacket from her. There's no way she'll let him leave without trying it on, and he's not especially keen on going back to fixing the plumbing.

The suit fits like a dream. It makes his shoulders look broad, his waist look trim, and even Erik can admit that his ass looks fantastic. Emma wolf whistles. "You clean up nice."

Before Erik can do something sensible, like take the suit off and put his coveralls back on, there's a knock on the door and then it pushes open. He and Emma look at each other in panic and Emma starts shoving him into the closet when a very familiar voice says, "Dad? Are you in here?"

Erik pokes his head around the corner. "Lorna? What are you doing here?"

"Mr. Janos said you were here. Can I go walk Charles' dog?" she asks.

None of that made sense. "What?"

Lorna grabs his hand and pulls him towards the hallway. There's a man waiting there in a wheelchair, with floppy brown hair and the bluest eyes Erik has ever seen. He’s incredibly cute. "This is Charles. He said I can go walk his dog if you say yes."

"Um..."

The man--Charles--smiles and holds out a hand to shake. "Hello. Sorry if this seems odd. Your daughter and I met on the elevator and she's quite taken with Banshee, my dog. He’s downstairs. She asked to come along and I agreed. If that's okay. Oh, it's probably not, is it? Who lets their children wander off with strangers? You probably think I’m a pedophile, trying to use my dog to lure small children away. I’m really not, I swear.” Charles is talking a mile a minute and Erik’s having trouble keeping up. “It’s just that your daughter is very bright and we were talking in the elevator and--I know! You could come too!" Charles smiles brightly, like he’s solved all their problems. "That is if you want to."

Erik stares.

"Please, Daddy?" Lorna begs. "Please please please."

Behind him, Emma gives him a little shove. "Go on, _Sebastian_ ,” she says, emphasizing the name. “I'll make sure everything here is arranged for you."

He turns to look at her, shaking his head frantically, but Emma is grinning. _He's a telepath. I'm putting a block on your mind so he can't get in,_ Emma tells him telepathically. _This might feel weird._

It does feel weird, and Erik shivers at the icy sensation. _Are you sure that will work?_

_Positive. Go have fun, sweetie._

Lorna pulls on his hand. "Please?"

"Yes, please, Sebastian," Charles says. "Before my campaign manager drags me back and makes me talk to more donors. You'll be doing me a favor helping me get out of here."

Erik says yes.

\---

As soon as they're out the door there are flashbulbs going off in their faces. Erik immediately raises a hand to block them and Charles murmurs, "Sorry, I'll meet you at the corner."

"Where did you get a suit, Dad?" Lorna asks while Charles is out of earshot. Erik starts to try and explain that’s he's borrowed the suit, not stolen it, but Lorna adds, "You look really handsome."

Erik smiles at her. “You think so?”

She nods. “I think Charles likes you.”

Erik snorts. "You don't even know if he's gay."

"Yes I do," Lorna says. "It was on his wikipedia page. He's bi."

"Well, in that case..."

Lorna grins at him, and Erik shakes his head at her fondly. This reeks of that time she tried to set him up with one of her teachers at school.

Charles gets rid of the paparazzi and proceeds to be utterly charming and perfect as they walk through Central Park. If he weren't a guest, and if Erik weren't currently lying to him about who he is, then this would be perfect.

Lorna's come out of the funk she's been in ever since her speech and she's chattering to Charles about politics. Charles is taking her seriously and answering questions thoughtfully and not assuming she doesn't know anything because she's a kid, and Erik could kiss him.

Eventually Lorna lets the corgi pull her off the path to play fetch and Erik tells Charles, "Thanks for this."

"For accompanying me on a walk? It should really be me thanking you, my friend."

"I mean for Lorna," Erik says, gesturing to her. "She's been upset all weekend and this seems to have cheered her up."

"What does she have to be upset about?" Charles asks.

_Where do I start?_ Erik wonders. "She messed up giving a speech at school so now she's got some hang-up about public speaking."

"Ah, speeches are tough," Charles says.

“You don’t seem to have any trouble with the press,” Erik says, wondering what sort of celebrity Charles is that he has that many of them following him around.

“That’s because I’m picturing them all in their underwear," Charles says with a smirk.

Curious now, Erik asks, “So what do you do exactly?”

Charles looks surprised by the question, but if he thinks that Erik has time to keep tabs on every celebrity in the news then he has another thing coming. “I’m in politics,” Charles says.

And suddenly Erik knows _exactly_ who he's walking a dog with. "Charles _Xavier_?"

"Yes?" Charles says, confused.

"Poster boy for the mutant integrationist movement?"

"Well, I know the papers say that but really I'm--"

"I can't believe this," Erik says, stalking ahead a few steps. Charles Xavier is the only open mutant to be elected to anything higher than a state office since, well, _ever_ , and of course he’d gotten there by catering to all the humans. He’s the face of the baselines' idea of a perfect mutant: harmless, rich and able to pass. Erik read an article just last month about how Xavier actually submits to taking suppressants when congress is in session, lest he meddle in anyone's mind.

Charles is frowning. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong is you're an idiot," Erik tells him. Charles looks hurt a moment, and Erik keeps going. "That mutant education bill was absolute bullshit."

Charles is taken aback enough to actually raise a hand to chest as if to say 'who me?' "That bill was the best thing we could get passed with the majority against us. And it provides for vital early education for mutant youth, especially in under-privileged areas."

Erik rolls his eyes. "The desegregated schools are crap and you know it. A bunch of humans teaching mutants how to use their powers like they know the first thing about it. And they do it all while pretending they sympathize and understand the _mutant struggle_ ”--he comes this close to actually using air quotes, but leaves them just implied--“when really they’d just as soon throw us to the wolves.”

Erik had his own horrible experiences as one of the only mutant kids in a baseline-dominated school that had viewed his sometimes destructive powers as a discipline issue rather than something he couldn't change about himself. He hates that his daughter is going through the same thing, but all of the mutant-only schools are private and incredibly expensive. The recent education bill doesn't go nearly far enough, as far as he's concerned.

"I take it you're a separatist then?” Charles asks mildly.

"Damn right I am."

Charles looks delighted.

“Stop smiling,” Erik tells him. “I don’t need you being patronizing. You should be doing more to help since you’ve actually got the power to do so.”

“I’m not patronizing you, my friend. I promise. It’s just….” He looks down, grin rueful. “No one ever argues with me on this, aside from other senators. And they’re all against everything I say just on principle. I can’t tell you how refreshing it is to find someone who actually cares, even if we do disagree on integration.”

Erik crosses his arms, eyeing Charles carefully for a long moment before asking, “You _like_ arguing about this?”

Charles’ smile is almost blinding. “Don’t you?”

Erik can’t help it. He laughs, shaking his head. Charles keeps smiling at him until they’re interrupted by a tall, gangly man that Charles greets as Hank.

“Raven sent me to get Banshee and tell you to go to the luncheon,” Hank says.

Charles rolls his eyes. “Of course she did. You can tell her, again, that I’m not going.”

Hank looks like he would rather be anywhere else at the moment. “Um… I’m not going to tell her that,” he says. “I like my balls where they are, thanks.”

Charles snorts. “Banshee’s playing fetch over there,” he says, gesturing towards where Lorna’s been chasing the dog around on the grass.

Erik calls Lorna back over and they hand the dog off to Hank, who reminds Charles about the luncheon one last time before heading back to the hotel.

“What’s this luncheon about?” Erik asks, since it sounds important.

“Oh, nothing really,” Charles says. “It’s a bunch of little old ladies, but Senator Kelly is speaking and Raven wants me to crash before he gets there and give them a positive spin before Kelly starts ranting about the registration bill again.”

“Do you have to give a speech?” Lorna asks.

Charles nods and, with a quick glance at Erik, tells her, “I have to give lots of speeches. That’s basically all politicians do. Have you ever given one?”

Lorna sighs. “I did at school last week. But it didn’t go very well.”

“Oh?” Charles says. “What happened?”

“I froze,” Lorna says. “Everyone was staring at me and then I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to say.”

Charles frowns sympathetically and Erik wonders where he’s going with this. “That’s happened to me before too,” Charles says.

“I’ve seen you talk on TV though,” Lorna says. “You never get nervous.”

“Oh, I do. I just have a trick that helps me not be nervous anymore,” Charles says. He smiles. “Do you want to know what it is?” He waits for Lorna to nod before telling her, “I close my eyes for a moment and imagine everyone in their underwear. And then when I open them again they don’t seem nearly as scary.”

Lorna looks skeptical. “How do you know what kind of underwear they have on?”

Charles taps his temple. “‘Cos I’m a telepath.” He leans forward in his chair to ask Lorna, “What’s your power? I bet we can find a trick that would work for you too.”

“I can move metal,” she says.

“Electromagnetism,” Erik corrects. He shrugs when Charles looks at him. “But it’s mostly moving metal.”

“I’ve never heard of that one before,” Charles says. “It sounds fascinating. Can you show me?”

Erik, for once in his life and because he’s wearing a borrowed suit, doesn’t have any metal on him. Lorna, though, reaches up to unhook her necklace and floats the chain over to Charles’ hand.

“Brilliant!” Charles says, smiling brightly at her.

“I don’t see how that helps with giving a speech,” Lorna says.

“Well,” Charles starts. “You’re manipulating the current in the metal to move it, correct?” Erik nods, and Charles continues, “So if you can direct all that energy to move the necklace then you can direct all the nervous energy that makes you forget your speech. Just hold onto your necklace here and direct all that energy out of you and into it. Then you’ll just have the words to your speech left in your head.”

Lorna still looks skeptical, but takes the necklace back and grips it tightly. “You really think that will work?”

“Absolutely,” Charles says.

\---

**_Charles_ **

Raven is going to kill him for missing the luncheon, but Charles can’t bring himself to care. Sebastian’s amazing, his daughter is adorable, and Charles hasn’t developed a crush on someone this quickly since he’d chased after Moira Kinross in middle school. 

The rational part of Charles’ mind is telling him that this is a rebound. He just broke up with Gaby for what is definitely going to be the final time last month. It’s still fresh enough that the tabloids won’t stop reporting on it. Charles shouldn’t be jumping into anything he thinks might have the potential for an actual relationship this soon.

But Sebastian’s handsome, and engaging, and passionate about what he believes in, and his ass looks amazing in that suit.

Someone must agree that Charles should go for it, because the perfect opportunity to ask Sebastian on a date falls into his lap. Lorna’s asked to go see the penguins, and she’s tapping on the glass when Sebastian comments, “They look like little fat men in tuxedos.”

“They do,” Charles agrees. And then he says, “Speaking of tuxedos, would you like to go to the Summers’ Benefit with me on Monday evening?”

“What?” Sebastian asks, turning away from the penguins to look at him.

“Monday,” Charles repeats. “I’m going to a benefit dinner supporting inner-city mutant youth. Scott Summers hosts it every year, and while he’s a bit of… well, an ass, the cause really is an important one. It’s twenty-five hundred a plate, so the food is bound to be good. And I’d love to have your company.”

Sebastian’s still gaping at him. “Twenty-five hundred a plate? As in, two-thousand five hundred dollars?”

“Um, yes,” Charles says. That really wasn’t the part of what he’d said that he’d expected Sebastian to focus on.

“What the hell are they serving that costs that much?” Sebastian asks indignantly.

“I haven’t seen the menu,” Charles says. “Lobster?” He shrugs. “The money’s not really for the food, the proceeds all go towards the Mutant Youth League.”

“Then why bother with the fancy dress and food?” Sebastian asks. “You could just collect the money and give it all to the kids.”

Charles tries to think of a diplomatic way to say that most people wouldn’t give the money at all if it didn’t come attached to a fancy event where they could be seen being charitable by everyone else in town. “Why don’t you come with me and I’ll introduce you to Scott so you can tell him that yourself.”

Sebastian looks back over at the penguins. “When was it?” he asks.

“Monday.”

“Sorry,” Sebastian says. “I’m busy that evening.”

Charles can recognize a rejection when he hears one, but wonders where he went wrong. They’ve been at the park for over an hour now and it’s been going fabulously the whole time. Should he not have mentioned how much the dinner cost? Surely that wouldn’t scare Sebastian off; he’s staying in one of the penthouse suites and Charles knows how much those cost per night. And Charles was going to pay, of course.

“Oh,” he says.

Before Charles can try to say anything else, Sebastian calls for Lorna. “We really need to get going,” he says.

“I…. You do?” Charles asks.

Sebastian's nodding. “Yes. I’m sorry. It was nice meeting you and thanks, for what you said to Lorna. I think that helped.”

Charles tries to muster up a smile. “I hope so.”

Sebastian smiles back at him tightly. “Goodbye then,” he says, taking Lorna’s hand and pulling her behind him. Lorna twists around to wave and shout goodbye to Charles, and he waves back.

Charles is left sitting in the middle of the penguin viewing area, alone, watching them walk away. “Well done, Xavier,” he mutters to himself as he heads back to the hotel to face Raven’s wrath.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [annejumps](http://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps) for fixing all my commas!

**_Erik_ **

On the way home from work, Erik tries to explain to Lorna that lying is bad and she should do as he says, not as he does. It goes over about as well as he expected it to, which is to say not at all.

“How come you’re not going out with him on Friday?” Lorna asks.

“Because he doesn’t even know who I am,” Erik says. “He thinks I’m a guest. It’s not fair to go out with him when I’m lying to him.”

Lorna skips ahead a couple of steps, and turns to walk backwards as she says, “But technically we didn’t lie. He just _assumed_ ….”

Erik gives her a flat look. “Now you sound like Nixon.” Lorna shrugs, and Erik sighs. He’d rather she didn’t find out this soon that there are certain things that just don’t work, and one of those things is someone rich and famous like Charles Xavier giving a damn about someone like Erik. She’s ten, she’s supposed to believe in fairy tales and Prince Charmings.

Not that Erik thinks Charles is some sort of Prince Charming. He absolutely does not. Charles is cute, but he’s also just a bit too slick; a consequence of a career in politics. “It wouldn’t work,” Erik says. “He thinks I’m staying in a suite and can afford five thousand dollar suits.”

Lorna smirks. “If it helps, I don’t think he’s after you for your money.”

Erik actually stops walking to gape at her. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

Lorna runs ahead again, laughing.

\---

**_Charles_ **

Charles has never been the type to give up in the face of adversity. He ran three campaigns for state assemblyman before ever getting elected, and getting into the senate had taken two tries. He's dealt with nasty reporters and nastier senators saying that telepaths can't be trusted and launching ad campaigns aimed at making him look like a criminal out to destroy the minds of others. He's fought his way onto committees just to be the only one making the argument that they're all _human_ , dammit, one mutated gene doesn't make a different species, and they all deserve to be treated like human beings.

So, he's not giving up after one "Sorry, I'm busy" from Sebastian.

Charles starts working on a note to send to the Park Suite asking Sebastian to meet him for lunch the next day. When Raven asks what he's doing, he tells her that he's trying to get a date for the benefit.

"Wait," Raven says. "Is this that guy from yesterday? The one you skipped the luncheon to go to the park with?" Her tone makes it clear that she thinks this was a poor choice on his part and that he's not going to hear the end of it anytime soon.

"You're the one who said I needed a date for the benefit," Charles points out.

"No I didn't," Raven says. "In fact I'd rather you went solo and let Summers grope you as much as he likes. He's more likely to donate to the campaign that way."

"I'm not whoring myself out," Charles says. "I want to go with Sebastian." He turns pleading eyes to his sister. "Help me get this date and I promise I'll go to every event you tell me to for the next month."

Raven purses her lips as she considers, then holds out a hand. "Let me see this note.”

\---

Raven is less keen on the idea of Charles asking Sebastian out after she gets ahold of that day’s tabloids.

“Look at this!” Raven says, waving the paper in Charles’ face. “ _Playboy Xavier at it again_.”

Charles tilts his head to get a look at the photo. It’s of him and Sebastian walking through the park. Sebastian’s back is turned away from the cameras but Charles is looking up at him with a large smile; the paparazzo must have been hiding behind a tree to get that shot. "It’s not that bad,” he says.

“Not that bad!” Raven practically screeches. “This is a disaster. It’s taken me months to get them to stop talking about you and Gaby and even that hasn't died down entirely. Go figure that as soon as I get them to focus on your assets you’ve got them focusing on his instead.” She waves the paper in the air for emphasis, and Charles considers again that making Raven his campaign manager really unleashed an inner beast that she’d kept hidden their entire childhood.

“You have to admit that he has amazing assets,” Charles says, grinning cheekily and looking back at the picture of Sebastian’s ass on the front of the paper.

Raven’s expression turns apocalyptic. She throws her hands up in the air and spins on her heel to leave. As she goes she shoves the paper at Hank, who’s been hanging back and watching this whole time, and says, “You talk some sense into him,” before slamming the door shut behind her.

Hank looks at Charles with wide eyes. “Um,” he says. “Sebastian sent a message back and accepted your lunch date.”

“Excellent!” Charles pumps a fist in the air, then realizes what he just did and lowers his hand to fold his hands in his lap a bit sheepishly.

“I’ll just go arrange it with the butler, then,” Hank says.

\---

Charles has everything set for lunch later, or the butler, a red-skinned mutant with a wicked-looking tail named Azazel, does, and Charles thanks him profusely. He’s reading over some notes to pass the time when Sebastian arrives.

Except it’s not Sebastian. The man standing at the door, smiling at Charles, holds out a hand to shake. Charles takes it, confused.

"Well hello there. It really is good to see you again, Charles. I must admit I was surprised to get your invitation." He smiles, but not nicely. "We must have made more of a connection last year in the Hamptons than I'd realized."

“The Hamptons… right,” Charles says. He has no idea who this man is. “And you’re, um….”

“Sebastian Shaw,” the man smiles at him brightly. He steps around Charles into the room. “This suite is beautiful. I do love this hotel. It’s so much nicer than the Four Seasons, wouldn’t you agree?”

Charles wonders if his note got sent to the wrong suite. How many Sebastians can there be staying at this hotel? It’s not exactly a common name. “And you’re staying in the….”

“Park Suite,” Shaw finishes for him, turning back to Charles with a smile.

Charles nods, smiling back tightly. Maybe his Sebastian checked out and this Sebastian checked in. “Right. Did you just check in?”

“Oh no, I’ve been here since the weekend,” Shaw says.

"Oh," Charles says.

Shaw walks further into the suite and finds the lunch setting that laid out. He turns back to Charles, saying, "Oh, you really didn't have to go to all this trouble."

Charles is still trying to figure out what's going on. "Um, I'm really sorry but--"

"So how is your campaign going then?" Shaw interrupts as he seats himself on the couch and lounges back like he owns the place. "I saw those rumors in the tabloids. Nasty thing." He shakes his and tsks. "It's such a shame that they can't respect the privacy of elected officials."

Charles nods, trying to think of something to say besides 'Who the fuck are you?' Clearly he's met Shaw before, apparently in the Hamptons, but Charles has met a lot of people in a lot of places and he can't be expected to remember them all.

"Sorry, give me just a minute. I need to go speak to the butler," Charles says.

Shaw waves a hand as though granting him permission and Charles hurries over to the kitchenette where the butler is still setting up lunch. Charles closes the door before asking, "Who is that?"

"Who is who?" Azazel asks.

Charles gestures back out to the living room. "That's not the right man! Was there someone else staying in the Park Suite named Sebastian? He's tall, brown hair, blue eyes. Super hot. He's got a daughter." Azazel is still looking at him blankly, so Charles adds, "She's got green hair, hard to miss."

A strange look comes over Azazel's face before he shakes his head. "No, I'm sorry, sir. Sebastian Shaw is the only person staying in the Park Suite."

From the other room, Shaw calls out, "Is there something wrong, Charles?"

_Yes_ , Charles thinks. He takes a deep breath and braces himself to go back out there. There's no use for it now, turning Shaw away could send him to the tabloids with the story. While one story about the new guy Charles is seeing is one thing, two in the same week is quite another. Raven will never forgive him if an article with a tell-all about his love life comes out.

\---

**_Erik_ **

Erik gets cornered in the hallway by the head butler, Azazel.

"Hello, Erik." Azazel manages to make 'hello' sound like something sinister. He's got a wicked grin on his face as he says, "A little bird told me you got up to some mischief the other day."

Erik crosses his arms and keeps his face expressionless. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Funny, because I was serving lunch today to Charles Xavier and Sebastian Shaw, and Mr. Xavier seemed very confused. He insisted it was the wrong Sebastian and that the Sebastian he was looking for was 'super hot' and had a daughter with green hair." Azazel's smile makes him look like the devil people sometimes mistake him for. "Now I don't know about you being 'super hot' since you are not to my taste, but you _are_ the only person I know of in this hotel with a green-haired daughter."

Erik doesn't budge, staring Azazel down until he adds, "I checked with Janos. You are on the security feed."

Erik meets Azazel's gaze for a long moment, before uncrossing his arms and asking, "What do you want?"

"I haven't decided yet," Azazel says. He pats Erik on the shoulder in what could almost be considered a friendly manner. "I will let you know when I do."

\---

"This is all your fault," Erik complains to Emma at happy hour that evening. It's not the first time he's said it. "If you hadn't forced me to try on that suit--"

Emma rolls her eyes. "Oh boo hoo." She adopts a falsetto and says, "I'm Erik and my best friend helped me get a date with a rich and famous man who could be president one day and instead of thanking her for being an awesome wingwoman I'm complaining because he wants to see me again. Woe is me."

Erik glares, but all he says is, "He's not going to run for president."

"That's not what the news says. They're expecting him to make a go for it in eight years."

"They'd never elect a mutant president," Erik says.

Emma shrugs and takes a sip of her drink. "Never say never."

Erik rests his elbows on the bar and slumps over, head in his hands. "What am I going to do?"

"You should go on a second date with him," Emma says. "And make sure you put out because he's filthy rich." She purses her lips at him, still completely unsympathetic to Erik's plight. "That is the kind of guy we all dream of bagging. Don't you dare waste this opportunity."

Erik drinks half his beer before replying, "I don't care that he's rich."

Emma laughs incredulously. "Oh come off it. You're not that altruistic."

"Really," Erik says. "I just liked him because he was cute and interesting."

"I find that kind of money cute and interesting too," Emma says. "The man's worth _billions_."

Erik sighs. "It doesn't matter, I'm not going to see him again. He doesn't even know who I am. He wouldn't look twice if he knew what I actually do for a living." He downs the rest of his beer and thumps it onto the bar top with more force than is strictly necessary.

"I still say you should go for it," Emma tells him. "Live the dream, for as long as it lasts."

Erik considers that as he motions to the bartender for another beer.

\---

**_Charles_ **

The next day Charles is still reeling from his disastrous lunch with Shaw--it had turned into a discussion of the latest gossip about New York's elite, from so-and-so's bad investments to who-gives-a-fuck's affair with the nanny. Raven has been laughing ever since Charles told her what happened, and she's still laughing now as Charles transfers out of his chair faster than he thinks he's ever done in his life just to get into the car before Shaw sees him. He falls onto the back seat and struggles for a moment to both hit Raven in the arm and straighten himself back up.

"It's not funny, Raven," he says, not at all petulantly.

"Yes it is," Raven says. She turns to the driver to give him their location. "And it serves you right. Maybe now you can forget about this mystery man who might or might not be a figment of your imagination and we can get back to focusing on how to address the poll numbers from last week."

Charles groans and pounds his forehead against the window, then does it again for good measure. He's about to go for a third when something outside catches his eye.

"That's him!" Charles says, pointing out the window excitedly. "Pull over," he tells the driver.

Sebastian is moving swiftly down the street and Charles rolls the window down to call for him. Sebastian glances over, but if he sees Charles he doesn't react or stop. "Sebastian!" Charles tries shouting again.

Sebastian starts walking faster, if anything, pulling Lorna along behind him. Charles bangs a fist against the door in frustration, because by the time he waits for the driver to get his chair out of the back and gets into it he'll never be able to catch up on a busy street like this.

"Oh for Christ's sake," Raven mutters. She hops out of the car and starts off down the sidewalk a brisk pace, catching up to Sebastian and grabbing his arm. She drags him, protesting, back to the car.

Charles is practically hanging out the window as he says, "Hi! I've been looking everywhere for you." He smiles at Lorna and adds, "It's lovely to see you again, Lorna."

She grins at him and gives him a little wave. Sebastian is looking at the car instead of Charles.

"Oh," Sebastian says. "Was there a particular reason or…."

Charles bites his lip, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. "Well, I tried to invite you to lunch but a different Sebastian showed up. Are you still staying the in Park Suite?"

Sebastian meets Charles’ eyes for a second before glancing away again. "Oh, um, no. We... moved."

"Oh, well, that explains the mess up at least," Charles says. "There's someone else staying there now named Sebastian too. Where did you move to? Another hotel?"

"Um, yes. The... the Four Seasons."

Raven's gotten back in the car and is staring at her phone. "We really have to get going, Charles, or we'll be late."

"Just a second," he says. "I'd really like--"

"Late for what?" Lorna asks.

"A very important speech in the projects," Raven says, leaning across Charles to get closer to the window.

Charles elbows her out of the way. "Look, Sebastian, I'd really like to know how to get in touch with you. Perhaps we can try lunch again? Or dinner? Or really anything you'd like. Coffee?" Charles smiles hopefully. He's not desperate, really, he just sounds that way right now.

"What's the speech about?" Sebastian asks.

"What?" Charles asks, confused as to where that question came from.

"The speech you're late for," Sebastian elaborates.

"The percentage of Americans below the poverty line that have some form of physical mutation," Charles tells him. Which isn't all of it, really, but gets the gist across.

Sebastian's frowning now. "Is that what you do all the time? Give speeches on things you don't actually know anything about?"

"Excuse me?"

Sebastian waves a hand at Charles. "You don't have a physical mutation. You've got just about the most invisible mutation to exist. The reason there are more mutants with physical mutations who are poor is because they can't get a job, and when they do they're often paid less than half of what a baseline human would be paid for the same work."

"That's what the speech is about," Charles tells him. "Increasing equality, starting with harsher penalties for employers who don't comply with anti-discrimination laws."

Sebastian scoffs. "Bigger fines won't change anything. You have to get people to come forward first and right now far too many don't feel safe doing that."

Charles is about to respond when Raven leans forward again, shoving Charles back against the seat. "We do _not_ have time for this. You two can call and flirt with each other later."

"We weren't--" Sebastian tries to protest, at the same time Charles says, "But I don't have his number!"

Raven shoves a business card at Sebastian, waving it in the air until Lorna reaches up to take it. "What's your last name?" Raven asks, fingers already hovering over her phone.

"Lehnsherr," Lorna says, her accent heavy on the end. Sebastian still looks a bit stunned.

Raven frowns, looking at her phone and muttering, "I'm not even attempting to spell that. Just give me your number so Charles can call you and beg for a date later when it's not going to completely derail my schedule."

Sebastian still doesn't answer so Lorna says, "It's 867--"

Sebastian slaps a hand over her mouth, muffling the rest of the number. "We really have to get going. Sorry, Charles." And with that Sebastian spins on his heel and takes off down the street, tugging Lorna along behind him.

Charles settles back into his seat, feeling pretty accomplished. He now knows Sebastian's full name, the first three digits of his phone number, and where he's staying. That should be enough to find him again. Charles hasn't had to work this hard to woo someone before and he's finding it rather exhilarating.

Raven's slumped back into her own seat and bangs on the partition to get the driver moving again. "You really know how to pick 'em," she tells Charles.

"Thanks," he says, smiling.

Raven rolls her eyes. "That wasn't a compliment."

\---

**_Erik_ **

That evening, the landline in Erik's apartment rings. He leaves it for his mother to pick up, since her friends are the only ones who ever call that number. A minute later he hears her saying, "Sorry, there's no Sebastian here," and he jumps up to run into the kitchen and snatch it from her.

"Sorry, Ma, that's for me." He ignores her confused look and says into the receiver, "Hello?"

"Sebastian?" asks the voice on the other line. Charles, of course. Though how he found this number Erik has no idea. Before Erik is forced to lie, he continues, "Oh, I’m glad this worked. I asked the butler to get your phone number since you’d been a guest but I wasn’t sure it was the right one because it’s different than the one Lorna mentioned. I’m sure it’s against the rules for staff to give out that kind of information but please don’t blame him. I’m afraid I resorted to begging to get it from him.”

Erik finds himself smiling at Charles’ rambling, even though he knows he’ll never hear the end of this from Azazel. “It’s alright,” he says. “So, how did your speech go?”

Erik listens to Charles with one ear and considers how much work Charles has put into finding him. He's never had anyone want him badly enough to go to all this effort, and Erik has to admit that it's a flattering feeling. All Charles is asking for is a date, a very fancy date at the kind of event Erik will never in his life have the opportunity to go to again, and maybe it's Emma's voice in his head telling him to go for it, to live a little, but Erik finds himself saying, "I'll go with you. To the benefit," he adds when Charles seems confused at the change in topic.

"I-- You will?" Charles sounds surprised. "I mean, that's great! That's perfect! I can send a car over to pick you up, if you like."

Erik grins stupidly at the wallpaper at Charles' excitement. "I'll meet you there," Erik says, since he doesn't exactly have an address he can give Charles to pick him up at. He's sure he can take the subway or something.

"Okay," Charles says. "We'll have fun, I promise. And you'll get the chance to tell Scott what he should be doing with his money."

"I look forward to it," Erik says. He glances at his mother, who hasn't left the room, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. "I have to go now," he says. "I'll see you on Friday."

"Okay," Charles says. "I'll see you then!"

"Goodbye, Charles," Erik says, waiting for Charles to echo the sentiment before hanging up.

Edie barely waits for him to hang the receiver back on the hook before asking, "Who was that?"

"His name is Charles," Erik says.

"And why does he think your name is Sebastian?"

"It's a long story."

Edie raises an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I want to know," she says. She grins a bit and asks, “Is he cute?”

Erik shakes his head but smiles back. “Very.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, Sebastian = Erik!
> 
> Thank you [annejumps](http://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps) for looking this over!

**_Erik_ **

Erik spends the rest of the week leading up to his date with Charles trying to focus on work. He’s not only the fastest maintenance worker at the hotel--aided by his mutation--but he’s also been there the longest of anyone not in management. He’s in prime position for that promotion, which comes with a pay raise that he desperately needs, and he spends part of the morning talking to the hotel manager, Logan, about it.

“You have no management skills,” Logan points out, chewing on the end of an unlit cigar.

_Neither do you_ , Erik wants to say. No one is sure how Logan got the position of hotel manager, but the most popular story involves betting on an illegal fight club. Erik wouldn’t put it past Logan to be involved in that sort of thing; the man certainly has the attitude and physique for it. “I’m prepared to take any training courses that would make me more suitable for this job,” Erik says, since that’s less likely to get him fired.

Logan frowns at him, but that’s his default expression so Erik doesn’t think much of it.

Erik takes a chance and says, “Look, who else is in the running for this? You said you wanted to promote from within and quite frankly, that means me. None of the other guys have been here as long and none of them are as good as I am. I can learn the management stuff, but you can’t teach someone how to do what I can. Or do you have someone else who can repair all the aging pipes in this place without making you rip out walls and completely renovate?”

Logan twirls his cigar between his fingers as he considers Erik. Then he smiles, which is such a rare occurrence that it’s a bit frightening. “Alright, Lehnsherr. I like a guy who doesn’t beat around the bush. You go to the training and keep up with all your other work and we’ll talk next week.”

“Thank you,” Erik says. Then adds, because it’s expected in this situation, “You won’t be sorry.”

Logan snorts. “Oh, I’m already sorry. Sorry for the poor bastards that are gonna have to work under you.” He waves his cigar at Erik. “But not sorry enough not to do it. Now get out.”

\---

Erik makes a point of taking on even more repair jobs the rest of the week, along with the training classes in the evening, and by the time he gets home at night Lorna’s already in bed and he winds up eating leftovers at the counter. The short-term stress is worth the end result, and he imagines that things will calm down once he’s actually got the promotion.

All of this means that he’s had no time to prepare for his date with Charles, so he finds Emma in the break room on Friday afternoon and asks her for help. “It’s black tie,” Erik says. “Where am I going to find a tux in the next two hours?”

Emma grabs his hand and pulls him towards the seamstress’ workshop. “Angel!” she shouts. “We have an emergency.”

Angel pokes her head out from behind a rack of clothes. “A fashion emergency? ‘Cos that’s the only kind I can help with.”

Emma nods and shoves Erik forward. “Erik has a rich date tonight and needs a tux.”

Angel’s face lights up. “Oooh, is this that senator? He’s cute.” She walks a circle around Erik, eyeing him up and down and making him feel like a piece of meat. “I think I have something that will fit,” she says, disappearing back into the racks of clothes.

She returns with a black garment bag. “This is headed back to the shop, so no one will miss it for an evening.” She unzips the bag to reveal a black tuxedo. Erik knows nothing of formal wear so it looks like every other tuxedo to him, but Emma leans forward to check the label.

“Tom Ford?” she asks, then breathes out, “Nice.” She pulls the jacket out of the bag and holds it up to Erik’s chest. “The one-button jacket will look good on you. Here, go try it on.”

Erik puts on the tuxedo and Angel spends a bit of time fussing with the fit and adjusting the cuffs. Emma ties the bowtie for him, then turns him toward the full-length mirror and brushes imaginary lint off his shoulders. "You clean up nicely," she says.

Erik barely recognizes himself in the mirror. His usual clothes are jeans and t-shirts, and the difference that the tuxedo makes is dramatic. His shoulders look broader, his waist looks smaller, and the long v-neck of the jacket makes him look even taller than he already is.

Erik feels like he's playing dress up, and is reminded anew that Charles doesn't actually know who he is. _This_ is the man Charles has asked out, not Erik.

"I can't do this," Erik says.

"What?" Emma asks. "What's wrong now?"

Erik gestures to his reflection. "This isn't me. I don't put on tuxes and go to fancy dinners with rich senators. I fix the rich senator's toilet." He tugs at the cuffs uncomfortably.

Emma puts a hand over his to stop the nervous fidgeting. "You look amazing," she says. "And you will have a great time and when it's over, it's over. It doesn't have to be anything more than tonight. Just think of it as…." She waves a hand in the air, trying to come up with something. "A really fancy one-night stand."

Erik levels her with a glare. "I don't do one-night stands either. Not since one of them resulted in Lorna."

"Well, I think it's a safe bet that you won't be knocking Charles up." Emma grins. "Just go have fun! You can go back to being your normal, boring self tomorrow."

Erik turns back to the mirror to meet his own eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath.

\---

Erik takes a cab to the event because Angel threatens to skewer him if he goes on the subway wearing the tuxedo. It's at the Met and there's a valet at the curb who opens the door for him. Erik looks up at the glittering lights and thinks that the only thing missing is a red carpet.

Oh, spoke too soon. There's a red carpet inside leading back to the Sackler Wing. Erik wonders how much it costs to rent out an entire museum and get them to let you put a band and dance floor in a room full of priceless antiquities. Probably more than he wants to imagine.

He spots Charles right away talking to a tall man wearing sunglasses despite being indoors at night. As Erik approaches Charles turns toward him, and his face lights up with a smile. "Sebastian! You made it!"

Erik smiles tightly at the name and says, "Good evening, Charles."

Charles takes his hand to tug him forward and gestures to the man in the sunglasses. "This is Scott Summers, our host. Scott, this is Sebastian Lehnsherr."

Scott holds out a hand. "Pleased to meet you."

Erik shakes it and nods, saying, "Likewise," and feeling like he's playing a role he didn't study the lines for.

Charles introduces him to a few more people, but mostly seems to want to talk to Erik. They find their spots at the table for dinner, which is every bit as good as the price tag suggests, and spend the meal ignoring their tablemates and discussing everything from Charles' favorite vacation spot (Spain), to Erik's opinion on the Mutant Registration Act (over his dead body), to what Lorna's been up to in school (still obsessed with the ‘70s).

It's all going well until Erik spots Shaw across the room. He's making a beeline towards Erik and Charles, and Erik looks around to see if there's a convenient pillar to hide behind.

Charles twists around to follow Erik's line of sight and groans. "Oh no," he says. "That's that other Sebastian. The one staying in your room now." He looks up at Erik. "Quick, dance with me so he won't come near."

They head out to the dance floor, and Erik--who has no idea how to do anything more than what passes for dancing in a club--manages not to make a complete fool of himself. He can blame his awkwardness on Charles showing him how wheelchair dancing works, and they spin around the floor a couple of times before Erik sees Raven approaching. She smiles and asks Charles, "Mind if I cut in?"

"Only a little bit," Charles says. "But go ahead."

Erik gives him a smile before taking Raven's hand and twirling her around.

“Stop watching your feet,” Raven says. “And let me lead, you clearly don’t have a clue what you’re doing.”

Erik steps on her toes, only partly on accident.

“What’s your angle here?” Raven asks.

“Angle?”

“With Charles,” she says. “Are you after the money, the fame, what?”

Erik frowns. “I can’t just like spending time with him?”

“No,” Raven says. “Because the last person who ‘just liked spending time with him’ turned out to be a gold-digging whore. Charles always falls head over heels and never sees it coming until it’s smacked him in the face, and then I’m left cleaning up the mess.”

“Charles doesn’t seem like a mess,” Erik says. They’re standing as far apart as they can while dancing, but speaking softly so that no one will overhear.

Raven tilts her head with a small, sardonic smile. “That’s because I’m good at my job.” She tugs him into another turn, and then says, “So again, what’s your angle?”

“I don’t have one,” Erik tells her. Which is true, but he knows she’ll never believe him. She’s right to think he’s after something; he’s given a false name and let the lie go on for far too long to be an innocent mistake. But Erik just wants this one night, something he can hold onto after Charles finds out the truth and doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

Raven gives him a flat look, tightening her grip on his hand to be almost painful.

Erik sighs. “Look, you don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be gone after tonight.”

That gets him a raised eyebrow. “Oh?”

“We’re leaving town,” Erik lies. “I’ll tell Charles tonight and that will be the end of it. Nothing for you to _clean up_.”

“Hmm,” is all Raven says. She lets go of his hand and takes a step back, then says, loud enough to be overheard, “Well, thank you very much for the dance. I’ll leave you to it then.”

Erik inclines his head at her, then turns to look for Charles. He spots him talking to Shaw, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Erik puts a hand on Charles’ shoulder when he gets over to them, and leans down close to ask, “Would you like to get out of here?”

Charles looks a bit startled, but pleasantly so. “Oh, yes. Absolutely.” He turns a tight smile to Shaw. “I’m so sorry, but we have somewhere we need to be.”

Shaw is frowning at Erik, clearly thinking very hard about something. “Have we met?” he asks.

“I don’t think so,” Erik says.

“I’d swear I’ve seen you before.”

“I just have one of those faces,” Erik says. “Come on, Charles. We really should get going.”

“Yes, right,” Charles says. “Goodbye, Mr. Shaw. Lovely seeing you again.”

Once they’re out of earshot Charles says, “Thank you, that was perfect timing.”

Erik smiles. “I was serious. Do you want to get out of here?”

Charles eyes widen a bit, and he says, “Oh, really? I mean, of course. Where did you want to….”

“I was thinking back to your hotel room,” Erik says.

\---

**_Charles_ **

Charles had been hopeful tonight, or overly optimistic perhaps, but he's glad he has one of his little blue Viagra in his pocket that he can dig out and down with a sip of wine before they head out to the car.

Then he spends the whole ride back to the hotel worrying over how to tell Sebastian that while, yes, Charles absolutely wants to sleep with him, it won't quite be what Sebastian is used to. Unless Sebastian has a habit of dating paraplegics in which case they have another issue entirely. Charles will forever be grateful that his injury is incomplete, and that he has a bit of feeling down to mid-thigh and that, aside from his legs, everything still mostly works the way it's supposed to. Mostly. The Viagra will give him an erection but it doesn't mean he'll be able to _do_ anything with it; the times he actually reaches orgasm are few and far between.

Charles decides to just go for it, after he and Sebastian have spent the entire elevator ride up to the penthouse making out.

Once they're in the suite, Charles says, "So, I just want you to know ahead of time that I probably won't come." At Sebastian's confused look, Charles hurries to add, "And that's okay, really. I want to make-- I want you to enjoy yourself. I just want you to know ahead of time that just because I can't have-- it doesn't mean that I'm not enjoying myself too." He smiles, hoping he hasn't scared Sebastian off already. "Okay?"

And Sebastian, bless him, says, "Okay. I mean, I figured it was a bit different, but.... You'll have to tell me what to do. To make it good for you."

There's a gorgeous man in a tux telling Charles to order him around. Charles has perhaps never been so turned on his life. "I can do that," he manages to say.

Sebastian leans back over Charles' chair so that they're so close they're practically sharing the same breath. "So, do we start with kissing? I thought we were getting rather good at that on the way here."

Charles swallows hard. "Yes. Yes, we start with that. That's a good place to--"

He's interrupted by Sebastian pressing his lips against Charles', hard and demanding, tongue tracing along Charles' bottom lip until he opens his mouth. Charles pushes up into the kiss, hands fisting in Sebastian's collar to pull him down.

They stay like this for awhile, until Charles is sure that Sebastian's back must be protesting bending like this, and he pushes him back. "Bedroom," Charles says, a bit breathlessly. "We should move this to the bedroom."

Once in the bedroom Sebastian starts shucking off his jacket and Charles says, "Slower."

Sebastian smirks. "You want a strip tease?"

"Yes, please."

Sebastian obliges, removing his jacket the rest of the way slowly and laying it carefully over the back of a chair before starting on the buttons of his shirt. He's got a tank top under that, which is when Charles can't stop himself from making a strangled sound because he's _this_ close to seeing Sebastian naked and that shirt is in the way. So are those pants.

Sebastian grins at him, like he knows exactly what Charles is thinking, and pulls the tank top off in one swift move. He tosses it at Charles, who catches it against his chest.

"You're only halfway there," Charles says, eying Sebastian's pants pointedly.

"Someone's impatient," Sebastian says, but he gets on with toeing off his shoes and getting his pants off. 

Once he's completely naked, all Charles can think to say is, "Good God, you're huge."

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. Charles swallows. "Come here," he says, reaching for Sebastian.

Charles wraps his hands around Sebastian's waist as soon as he's close enough. Sebastian's at the perfect height for Charles to lean forward and nuzzle his cheek along Sebastian's cock, drawing a strangled noise from Sebastian that Charles smirks at. He does it again, this time trailing a sloppy kiss along the length, and gets the same sound as a reward. Charles cups Sebastian's ass in his hands, pulling him even closer, and wraps his lips around the tip.

Charles pulls out every trick he knows, until Sebastian is a babbling mess above him, but then Sebastian pulls back. "Wait, wait," he says. "You haven't even got your suit off."

Charles has honestly been so absorbed with having Sebastian's cock in his mouth that he hasn't paid attention to himself. His own erection is straining against his pants, and he's feeling entirely too warm to still have on his jacket. Charles starts shucking his clothes off, watching Sebastian watch him.

Once he's wiggled out of his pants, a move that feels considerably less sexy than when Sebastian had stripped, Charles moves over to the bed. Sebastian follows him up, settling on his hands and knees over Charles' lap.

"I want you to fuck me," he says.

Charles' waits for his brain to start working again before he says, "Yes."

Fucking Sebastian is one of the things Charles can still do. Well, with Sebastian riding him at least. Which Sebastian doesn't seem opposed to.

Charles tells Sebastian where the lube and condoms are and waits for him to retrieve them, then pulls Sebastian up higher, until Sebastian's knees are on either side of his shoulders. Charles works Sebastian's cock with his mouth and one hand while the other slips back to start working Sebastian open. Above him, Sebastian's gripping the headboard and his thighs are straining with the effort not to start thrusting into Charles' mouth. Charles switches from fondling Sebastian's balls with his free hand to stroking up and down the back of his thigh, from knee to ass. 

Sebastian groans and says, "I'm good, I'm good."

Charles pulls his lips off Sebastian's cock with a _pop_. Sebastian's looking down at him with something like wonder. Charles smiles, enjoying the shift in Sebastian's expression as he removes his fingers as well.

Sebastian settles himself over Charles' lap, reaching down to line them up and then begins sinking down and it's... it's good, it's excellent, of course, even if the sensation is dulled for Charles. Sebastian's face is twisted up in concentration, and Charles presses a finger to his brow, smoothing out the furrowed line. "Relax," he says.

Sebastian's hand brushes over one of Charles’ nipples as he balances himself, and Charles gasps, back arching.

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. "That's good."

"That's amazing," Charles says. He runs his finger down the side of his own throat, from ear to collarbone, and says, "Here too."

Sebastian obliges, bending down to follow with his tongue the path Charles just drew. Charles groans, reaching to grab hold of Sebastian's ass. He kneads his cheeks as Sebastian starts moving, pushing himself up and down on Charles' cock, hands splayed across Charles' chest for balance and playing with Charles' nipples.

It doesn't take long before Sebastian's movements lose a little of their finesse, probably a result of all the attention Charles had been lavishing on his cock. Charles takes hold of it again, stroking in time with Sebastian's thrusts and twisting his fist around the head, until Sebastian is gasping and coming, spurting over Charles' hand and stomach.

He keeps moving on Charles' cock for a bit before collapsing forward. Charles is still hard, but that's because of the Viagra and not because he's necessarily going to get an orgasm out of this. Sebastian eases off of him and reaches for Charles' cock, but Charles brushes his hand away. "I'm good." At Sebastian's expression, he says, "I told you I probably wouldn't come. Don't worry, this was more than enjoyable."

Sebastian seems to accept that and finally allows himself to flop face first onto the bed next to Charles, spent. Charles rubs a hand over his back, admiring the muscles there. Really, Sebastian should never wear clothes. It's a crime to cover up a body like this.

Charles wonders, not for the first time, why Sebastian's mind is a complete blank when he tries to read it. He brushes his fingers along Sebastian's hairline, resting against his temple, and Sebastian turns toward him with a soft look. Charles smiles at him. Perhaps it's a side effect of Sebastian's mutation; it wouldn't be the first time Charles has encountered individuals with natural telepathy blocks.

Charles falls asleep like that, watching Sebastian's back rise and fall with his breaths with one hand splayed across him, holding him close.

\---

**_Erik_ **

Erik wakes up sometime just after dawn, the light filtering in through the sheers over the window. It gives the room a warm glow, and he watches Charles' sleeping face in the light for a bit. Charles looks younger in sleep, long eyelashes fanned against his cheeks and lips parted just a tiny bit.

Then he looks around the suite. He's seen these rooms many times over the past couple years working here, but never from the vantage point of having slept in one. He climbs out of bed slowly, careful not to disturb Charles--though when he bangs his knee on the bedside table and curses loudly, Charles doesn't even twitch. Heavy sleeper, then. Erik makes use of the shower quickly before dressing back in the tuxedo, leaving the collar undone and folding the jacket over one arm. He stands beside the bed again, looking down at Charles, and leans over to plant a soft kiss on his forehead.

It was nice while it lasted, he thinks, before slipping out the door quietly.

He runs into Shaw in the hallway halfway through his walk of shame, of course, because that's how Erik's luck goes. Shaw looks confused at seeing him, and Erik brushes past him without a backward glance to take the elevator down to the basement. The faster he can get this tuxedo back to Angel and get ready for work, the faster his life can go back to normal.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to [annejumps](http://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps) for beta reading everything! <3

**_Erik_ **

At lunch, Erik has a voicemail from his mother telling him to give this Charles fellow his cell number so that he'll stop calling the house. Erik almost grins, but then remembers that he's planning on never seeing Charles again, and any amusement falls away. Probably he should have stuck around this morning to say goodbye, but Erik selfishly wants to remember Charles without an argument.

He gets a call on his radio to report to the Park Suite before he's even finished eating. Probably Shaw forgetting how to work the air conditioner again.

It's not the air conditioner. Logan is standing just inside the door, Azazel with him, and when Erik looks further into the room he spots Shaw as well, looking furious.

Erik stops in the doorway. "What's going on?" 

Everyone turns to look at him as one, and Erik fights the urge to take a step backwards.

Logan has his arms crossed, and says, "Mr. Shaw here says you've been stealing his things."

Shaw looks mad enough to spit. "My clothes, my name, my _life_ ," he rants.

Erik says the only thing he can. "I didn't steal anything."

Logan raises an eyebrow. "You're on the security footage wearing his suit," he says.

"I returned it," Erik says. "It's already been to the cleaners and now back to the designer. No worse for the wear."

"No worse for the...." Shaw repeats incredulously. "Is this how you treat your guests?" he demands from Logan. "Just take what you want and use it and it's fine so long as you put it back exactly as you found it?"

Logan looks even more grim than usual. "Of course not, sir. We take this sort of theft very seriously." He's about to add something else, but that's when there's a knock against the still open door and Charles comes in, Raven close behind him.

Charles looks around at everyone gathered there, eyeing Erik in confusion, before asking, "What's going on? I got a call to come here."

"Yes, of course, Charles," Shaw says, voice no longer the angry shout from before but instead low and simpering. "I don't know if they've told you yet, but this man" -- he gestures to Erik with a dismissive wave of his hand -- "has been impersonating me. I'm afraid in an attempt to get close to you. I dread to think what he was after."

Charles isn't looking at Shaw, he's staring straight at Erik. "What's going on?" he asks again.

Erik doesn't know what to say. How can he possibly explain this? 'Sorry, you assumed I was staying here and I liked you so I didn't correct you, even when you were saying the wrong name in bed last night.' That would go over well. Erik's dug himself in too deep to get out of it, so he says nothing.

"Sebastian?" Charles tries again.

"Oh, that's _my_ name, not his," Shaw says. "He steals things. Clothes, names...."

Charles looks lost and confused, and just the beginnings of horrified, gaze flickering between Erik and Shaw.

Erik has to say something. He can't stand to be the one who put that expression on Charles' face. "I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't mean for it to go this far."

"You didn't...." Charles stops, swallowing hard and then steeling his expression, his hurt quickly turning into anger. "What exactly has been going on?"

Shaw, of course, answers before Erik can. "He's been playing you," he says. "Playing all of us, really. He's not a guest here, he's the janitor."

"Repairman, actually," Erik says, glaring back at Shaw.

"Not anymore," Logan chimes in. They all turn to look at him, and he clarifies, "You no longer work here, Lehnsherr. As of right now."

Erik's stomach drops, even if at this point he should have been expecting it. He's broken just about every rule there is regarding interaction with guests. Of course he's fired. 

Erik's never been fired before. He wonders if it's supposed to feel this shitty. He wants this conversation, this confrontation and public airing of all his sins, to end, so he asks, "Are we done here, then?"

Charles tries to say, "No," at the same time that Logan says, "Yes." Erik turns on his heel and stalks out the door, ignoring Charles calling after him.

\---

**_Charles_ **

Charles tries to follow Sebastian--or whatever his name is--but by the time he makes it back the hallway the door to the stairwell is already banging shut. He spins back around to ask, "Where's he going?"

"To turn in his stuff and get the hell out of my hotel, if he knows what's good for him," the hotel manager says.

Charles practically growls in frustration. He wants an explanation, he deserves an explanation. Something more substantial than what's been offered by Shaw and the manager so far.

He wants to know _why_. Why would Sebastian have lied to him. It had seemed so-- Was any of it real? Or were the feelings that Charles thought Sebastian had shared only ever in Charles' own head? Was Sebastian only ever after Charles' money, like Raven had warned him?

There are too many questions. Charles stabs at the down button for the elevator repeatedly, as though that will make it move faster. Raven catches up to him and asks, "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to find him," Charles says, just as the elevator _dings_ its arrival.

Raven grabs ahold of one of the handles on the back of Charles' chair, stopping him from rolling forward. "What good is it going to do? You should just let him go."

He reaches back and pries her hand off, none too gently. "You can follow me if you want, but you're not stopping me."

Charles catches up to Sebastian on the street outside, and the first thing he demands to know is, "What's your real name then?"

Sebastian looks surprised to see him, wearing a pair of rumpled jeans and a t-shirt and holding a trash bag containing what are presumably his belongings.

"Erik," he says.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Charles asks. Sebas--Erik--looks cornered, like he wants to keep running. "Or was this some sick game for you?" Charles continues. He lets the self-deprecation seep into his voice as he adds, "Seduce the rich cripple because, after all, it can't be _that_ hard to do."

Erik's eyes widen, and he says, "No. I didn't-- I never thought of you like that. You know that."

"I don't know anything. I don't even know your bloody name."

Erik swallows hard. "Look, you assumed--"

"I _what_?" Charles demands. Erik can't be seriously trying to turn the blame for this onto him. _Erik_ is the one who lied. _Erik_ is the one who manipulated. Charles was just stupid enough to fall for it. "Are you trying to say this was _my_ fault? You have got to be kidding me!"

By now they've drawn a crowd, shouting in the middle of the street as they are. Charles can't bring himself to care about the flashbulbs of the paparazzi that he can see in the corner of his vision. Let them fucking watch. His life has been public entertainment for far too long no matter how hard he ties to keep things private, so might as well give them something juicy to talk about.

"You never would have looked twice at me if you knew who I really was," Erik says, apparently having found some of his own anger to fight back with. "You assumed I was a rich guest and, yeah, I probably should have corrected you--"

"Probably?" Charles demands hotly.

"But you were perfectly happy thinking I was some rich businessman that you could show off for," Erik continues. "You only cared because you thought I was someone else."

"Because you let me think that!" Charles shouts at him. He can't decide which feeling is more overwhelming, the anger at being played or the incredulousness at Erik trying to blame _Charles_ for the whole thing. “You didn’t even give me a chance. You just assumed I would judge you for being…” 

He tries to think of how to say it, but Erik interrupts by saying, “Poor?” with a hard twist of his lips.

Charles glares. “You act like I’m the one saying people aren’t good enough, but that’s exactly what you did to me. I think you just like judging everyone for some imagined slight.”

Erik pulls himself up to his full height, squaring his shoulders and looking down his nose at Charles as he says, "We met before, when I was fixing your shower, and you didn't even notice. You never would have if I hadn't tried on that damn suit and suddenly been someone rich enough to be worthy of your attention."

"Fixing my...." It takes Charles a bit to remember what Erik's referring to, but when he does he says, "I had my pants around my ankles! I really wasn't paying attention to much else." Erik can't seriously be using this as the basis of his argument. Of course Charles hadn't noticed him, Charles hadn't noticed much of anything other than the fact that there was someone in the bathroom when there shouldn't have been.

Erik tilts his head and manages to look even more superior than a moment before. "Exactly," he says, as though Charles has just conceded to taking the blame.

Charles forces himself to take a deep breath and stop gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles cramp. "Was any of it real, then?" he asks. That's what he really wants to know. "Or was this all just a game to you. Having a spot of fun by tricking the guests?"

Erik's smug expression fades and he looks unsure again, running a hand through his hair before saying, "I wasn't trying to trick you. Honestly. I just... I wanted to see what it was like."

"And then?"

"And then it got out of hand," Erik says.

Charles stares at a point midway up Erik's chest to avoid looking at his face as he asks, "What now then?"

"Now I have to go find a new job," Erik says.

"I meant for us," Charles says.

Erik sighs. "There is no us. It was nice to pretend that there could be, but we're from very different worlds." He gestures at the gathered crowd, who seem to all be hanging on every word they're saying. "You've got a campaign to go run. I've got a daughter to go take care of." He catches Charles’ gaze before saying, "I'm sorry. I never meant--" he cuts himself off, before finally saying, "I'm sorry," again.

Charles sighs, feeling distinctly defeated. "I am too."

Erik looks like he's going to say something else, but that’s when one of the paparazzo decides it's time to start asking questions instead of just filming, and Erik turns and pushes his way through the crowd.

Charles watches him go until Erik's lost in the crowd.

\---

**_Erik_ **

Erik manages to ditch the last of the paparazzi between subway stops and sags against the wall of his last train, feeling utterly drained. It's not until he gets home and finds his mom and Lorna sitting at the table, going over Lorna's homework, that he realizes just how much he's fucked everything up.

"What are you doing home so early?" Edie asks.

Erik doesn't answer, taking him time setting his things down and then leaning over Lorna's shoulder to see what she's working on. Math, apparently. He presses a kiss against her hair and heads towards the fridge. There must be beer in there somewhere. Erik doesn't keep anything harder in the house, much as he's regretting that right now.

"Erik," his mother says, brow furrowed in confusion.

Erik pops the top off his beer and takes a long drink before he says, "Got laid off."

It takes a moment before Edie asks, "What? What happened?"

Erik shakes his head. He has no idea how to explain this. "It's fine," he says instead. "I'll find something new this week." Which is true, he's never had much trouble finding work. Most people are more than happy to hire a repairman who can shape metal to his will; it takes Erik less than half the time to get things done as it takes someone without his power. The problem is finding something that pays well and has steady work. That's why the hotel had been such a godsend. Maybe he'll try another hotel.

Edie crosses her arms. "Tell me what happened. You said you were getting promoted, not fired."

"Well, things change."

Lorna's frowning at him, homework forgotten. "Does this mean you won't see Charles anymore?" she asks.

Erik almost laughs. "No, I will definitely not be seeing Charles anymore."

"But I liked him," Lorna says.

_So did I_ , Erik thinks.

His mother has caught on, and asks, "Is this about that man who was calling? The one you went out with last night?" Erik doesn't answer, so she keeps going. "What did you do, Erik? Who was he?"

"Charles Xavier," Erik says. At Edie's confused look he adds, "The senator."

"The mutant one?" Edie asks.

Erik nods.

Edie grabs the nearest thing she can hit him with--a tea towel, luckily--and snaps it at Erik's head.

"Ow!" Erik raises his hands, trying to block her. "Ma!"

Edie snaps the towel at his again, hitting his ear. "What were you thinking?" she demands. "Is this why he didn't know your name? You lost your job over a boy?"

Erik grabs the other end of the towel before she can hit him again and pulls it away from her. "I was thinking I might like to have something _I_ want, for a change," he says.

"I hope you enjoyed it, then," Edie says. "Because it's over now."

"I'm well aware of how over it is," Erik says. He takes another long drink of his beer before setting it on the counter. He needs something stronger, which means he needs to find a bar to drown his sorrows in for a couple hours.

He heads back towards the front door and grabs his keys. "I'll be back in a little while."

"You better be going to find a new job!" Edie yells after him.

Erik just barely refrains from rolling his eyes.

\---

**_Charles_ **

The next day, Charles is still reeling from finding out that Sebastian--Erik--whatever his name is--was lying to the him whole time. Raven takes away the bottle of scotch he's been nursing and pushes him towards the bathroom, telling him to get cleaned up because he’s got to go let himself be wined and dined by some lobbyists for dinner. Charles goes because he has to. There’s really no calling in sick in politics.

He’d really like to call in sick.

He wants to take the day off even more when he’s greeted by a wall of reporters as he tries to leave the hotel. Apparently his fight with Erik in the middle of a crowded street has been picked up by all the major networks, and now they’re asking about his relationship with the working class.

Raven waves them off with promises for a statement and conference later and hurries him into the car. “This is a disaster,” she complains, attention focused on her phone. She waves it in his face. “Look at this. They’ve got video!”

Sure enough there's a fuzzy video of him and Erik shouting at each other yesterday playing. Someone has helpfully added subtitles, so Charles knows that this is the part where Erik insisted that Charles was some kind of classist asshole who would ignore anyone who wasn’t at least a millionaire. He might not have used those words exactly, but the meaning had been clear enough.

Charles crosses his arms and stares out the window. “I don’t need to see it again.”

Raven tucks her phone away and says, “You have to make a statement.”

“And say what? My private life is private, mind your own fucking business?”

Now Raven’s arms are crossed. Charles knows, based a long history of arguments with her, that he will be the one to back down first. “This is bigger than just your sex life.” She shudders a bit. “And after this is over, please stop making me discuss it.”

“I’m not making you do anything,” Charles points out.

“You’re having lover’s spats in public with a janitor less than a month after breaking off an engagement to a supermodel. Who else is going to clean up that mess?” Raven says.

“He wasn’t a janitor,” Charles says. “He was a repairman.” He pauses thoughtfully. “I imagine his mutation would actually help with that job a lot, actually. He could probably fix things without even needing tools.” Erik’s mutation really is magnificent. Charles wonders how much Erik’s experimented with his abilities. So many things rely on the Earth’s magnetic fields, the possibilities might be endless. He could probably do something awesome, like fly, if he put his mind to it.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Raven says, with a roll of her eyes. “He lied to you.”

“I know that, thanks,” Charles says.

Raven raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re not acting like it.” 

Charles doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need Raven to point out what an idiot he is; Erik did a fine enough job of it. 

Raven purses her lips and says, “All the public cares about is that he was poor and you’re really not. We have enough problems convincing people that you can represent the working class without adding in a story like this. He was publicly accusing you of thinking less of him for being poor.”

“I don’t though,” Charles says.

“I know that, and you know that, but none of them know that.” She gestures at the world outside the car. “They’re the ones you have to convince.”

Charles gives a statement later that day so that the evening news cycle will pick up the story with his own explanation, rather than continuing to speculate. He tells them that Erik is a friend and he regrets that his friendship has brought this kind of media scrutiny into Erik’s life.

The first question he’s asked--by the New York Times, who he really thought above this sort of this--is, “Were you sleeping with him?”

Charles pastes on his best smile and says, “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

“It also wasn’t a yes. Next question, and please make refrain from asking about my sex life. You’ll scar my poor little sister for life,” he says, with a wave at where Raven is standing off to the side.

They get a bit more serious after that, questioning his motives with regards to initiatives for the poor and asking how he can possibly relate to the common man when he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. They’re all expected questions, and Charles has rehearsed answers, and when it’s finally over he feels exhausted. He makes sure not to let it show.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Three weeks later…_**

**_Erik_**

Erik’s staring down the subway tunnel, standing close enough to the edge to make people glance at him nervously, and trying to sense how far away the train is when Lorna tugs on his jacket. “Look, Dad. It’s Charles.”

“What?” Erik asks, shaking his head to bring himself back to the here and now. 

Lorna’s holding a newspaper. Erik starts to wonder where she got it from before he catches sight of the picture on the front. It’s Charles alright, surrounded by a crowd and kissing someone’s baby, because that’s the sort of thing politicians do. He looks good, but then he’s looked good every time Erik’s seen him on television over the past couple of weeks too.

Lorna shakes the paper at him. “It says he’s going to be at your hotel. See?” She turns the paper around and reads, “ _Xavier will be speaking Friday afternoon at the Barrister Hotel on the controversial Mutant Rights bill currently being debated in the House._ ” She grins up at him. “That’s tomorrow!”

“Mmhmm,” Erik says.

“You’re going to be in the same building. It’s like fate,” she insists.

“No,” Erik says. “It’s like New York City and an available conference room.”

“Dad.” Lorna sighs and looks at Erik like he’s an idiot. Erik already hates that look and she’s not even a teenager yet.

“We talked about this,” he reminds her. Erik had told her that life isn't a movie, and not everyone gets together in the end, and that it's okay for relationships not work out. He's not sure how much of it stuck, since she always makes sure to point out anytime Charles is on TV and insists that Erik watch.

"But what if he's sorry he broke up with you and really wants you back? If you don't go you'll never know," Lorna says.

"He didn't break up with me," Erik says. "I broke up with him. Sort of," he adds.

"But you wish you hadn't, right? So if you just go tell him that I bet he'll want us back and then--."

"Lorna," Erik interrupts sharply.

She frowns but relents, looking down at the picture again. After a long moment, she asks, “Do you think he misses us?”

Internally, Erik smacks himself again for ever letting Lorna get her hopes up about someone he was dating. Outwardly, he smiles at her. “He’d be crazy not to; we’re pretty awesome.”

Lorna grins a bit. “I bet he misses us a lot. Even more than we miss him.”

Erik’s grateful to finally feel the train approaching. “Come on, train’s here,” he says, hoping that this will be the end of the conversation.

\---

**_Charles_**

Raven thinks that Charles got into politics because he likes being right. She cites the many arguments they’d had as children, which usually began with Charles trying to correct Raven about something and Raven digging her heels in, refusing to change not because she thought Charles was wrong--though that was often the case--but just because he had been the one to tell her to in the first place. "Sometimes you have to let people figure it out themselves," she'd told him.

As he's gotten older, Charles has realized that she was right about that. Sometimes it doesn't matter what he says or does or how _wrong_ he knows the opposing side is, there's nothing that he can do to change their minds. It's especially true in politics, when no one's opinion is actually their own and is instead a conglomeration of what's popular, what they think people want to hear, and what lobbyists have told them to think.

Realizing this hasn't stopped him from _trying_ , however. Charles operates on the hope that he can sway them just a little bit, have an effect on just that one person, and in turn affect the overall whole.

So he goes to New York City, he shakes hands and talks until he’s hoarse, and he gets up in front of rooms full of people who hate him just for being who he is and tries to win them over.

Sometimes it works, which is the only reason he hasn’t given up on the whole thing.

Today he’s doing a round table interview for a local station that will inevitably be picked up by one of the national networks. It’s a room full of reporters, who are consistently one of the groups that practically _loves_ Charles. He’s got just the right mix of controversial politics, interesting private life, tragic back-story, and boyish good looks to draw in readers.

To Charles’ relief, all but the trashiest gossip magazine have stopped talking about his very public break-up with Erik a couple weeks ago. They’ve shifted focus to the very public media fight he’s having with Senator Kelly over the new mutant rights bill, but that’s exactly what Charles wants them to talk about so he sticks around past the end of the event, taking questions.

From the corner of his eye, he catches sight of Raven tapping on her wrist impatiently. “Okay, one more,” Charles tells the reporters. “Then you can follow me to the next event and keep asking questions there.”

“Wait! Wait!” someone shouts. Charles searches for the source and spots someone a good deal shorter than the rest of the crowd shoving their way to the front. He recognizes Lorna’s hair first, bright green and pulled back into braids. She waves her arms frantically when she gets to the front until she realizes she has his attention. “I have a question,” she says.

Charles recovers from his surprise--he can honestly say he never expected to see her again after how things ended with Erik--to give her a smile and ask, “And which paper are you with?”

Lorna looks momentarily panicked, then says, “It doesn’t matter. We’re new. You wouldn’t have heard of us.”

He holds back from laughing and says, “Alright then. What’s your question?”

Lorna bites her lip and reaches up to tangle her fingers with the chain of her necklace, tugging hard on it. “It’s just… um. Well.” She chews the inside of cheek. “I was just wondering…. Everyone makes mistakes. And it’s a… a sign of good character to give someone a second chance, right?” She seems to have found her confidence and stands up a bit straighter. Charles has a sinking suspicion he knows where’s she’s going with this and wishes she hadn’t decided to ask about it in a room full of people and cameras.

“Even if they lied,” Lorna says. “Maybe they did it for a good reason, or what they thought was a good reason, and you should forgive them because otherwise we’d never have any senators or presidents at all.” That gets her a few chuckles from the rest of the room and she smiles a bit, the expression on her face incredibly earnest. “But what if you’re not a politician trying to do something good for everyone and make things better? What if you’re just a repairman or something and you made a mistake and you really regret it? Don’t you think he should get a second chance?”

At least some of the reporters have caught on to what she’s talking about, and everyone’s watching Charles now for his answer.

He should lead her out of the room and explain that sometimes things just don’t work out, but he’s very glad to have seen her again. Let her know that she can always call or write to him or something. End it, basically, because this story is just starting to die in the press and having her turn up to ask about it is going to get it started up again. The last thing he needs when there’s important legislation being decided is for everyone to be distracted by his personal life.

He _should_ do that.

What he actually does is say, “Where is he?”

Lorna’s face lights up with a grin and she runs up to his side to grab his hand and start tugging him towards the door. Charles has to pull his hand back out of her grip so that he can control his chair and follow her.

“He’s downstairs. I _knew_ you’d listen,” Lorna says once they get out of the conference room, a persistent group of reporters trailing after them. “He’s really missed you and he won’t say it but he’s really sorry and he didn’t mean to lie, he _really_ likes you, he’s just really bad at talking about this kind of stuff.”

“Really?” Charles asks, with a raised eyebrow.

Lorna nods. Once they’re alone in the elevator--leaving the gaggle of reporters following them to take a different elevator or find the stairs--she suddenly turns shy. “You missed him too, right?”

There’s not really any turning back now, so Charles says, truthfully, “I did, yeah.”

Lorna’s all smiles again. She leads him through the basement, past a security guard who tries to stop them but appears to give up once the reporters catch up as well, and into what appears to be a break room.

Erik’s alone at one of the tables, scrolling through something on his phone, and he looks up at Lorna’s shout of, “Dad!”

“What are you….” Erik trails off when he spots the rest of their entourage, gaze eventually fixing on Charles. He looks completely shocked at first, and then Charles can see the dawning comprehension. “Charles?” he asks.

Charles wheels right up to Erik, grabs the front of his coveralls, and pulls him down so that Charles can kiss him. Erik’s hands land on the arms of Charles’ chair to catch himself, and at first it’s mostly teeth but then he tilts his head and opens his mouth and reaches up to tangle one hand in Charles’ hair and pull him closer, making a small, desperate sound against Charles’ lips.

Charles can hear the cameras clicking. He couldn’t care less.

When they finally break away Charles swallows hard, trying to catch his breath. Erik leans back but doesn’t straighten up, still close enough Charles could kiss him again easily.

“Hello,” Charles says.

Erik grins. “Hi.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Charles catches sight of Lorna and he turns to look at her. He’s immediately blinded by the flash of a camera, and turns back to Erik as he blinks it away. He takes a deep breath, and says what he’s wanted to say to Erik for the past two weeks, once he realized he wasn’t angry anymore. “Can we start over?” Charles asks. “You as you, me as me?”

“You want that?” Erik asks.

“Very much so,” Charles says.

Erik bites at the inside of his lip, then straightens back up and holds out his hand. “Erik Lehnsherr, building maintenance.” There’s a soft smile on his face and Charles can’t stop smiling himself.

He takes Erik’s hand and says, “Charles Xavier, U.S. Senator. It’s nice to meet you, Erik.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they lived happily ever after, as all rom-com couples do...
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing! This is a silly little fic based on a silly little movie and I had a lot of fun writing it. :D


End file.
